Fireworks
by DoctorWhovian718
Summary: Phil really wants to set off fireworks on the 4th of July, even though they're not American. One problem: Dan doesn't, in case of tragedies. What will happen? (no phan)
1. Please?

"Dan, we're going out tonight." Phil said as he strode through our flat's door and threw his keys out on the table.

"what, like a date?" I smirked. "I'm not that gay, Phil."

"No! Not like that!' He practically yelled back, blushing a bit. He walked over the couch on which I was sitting and sat down next to me. No, he didn't just sit. He made sure that when he was getting 'comfortable' that he put his entire arm in the way of my laptop, pressed a few buttons, and smushed my head to the couch. "I mean, it's the 4th of July! Let's have some fireworks!" He beamed, and waited, as if waiting for approval. I sighed.

"Phil," I started, not wanting him to be hurt. "We're not American." His face bowed down in self pity, and stayed there for a while. I couldn't tell if he was just trying to be funny, but he looked like a lost and kicked around puppy.

"Oh, right." His voiced cracked. Why was he so upset?

"Ugh, fine. We'll do fireworks. But where will we get them, and why were you so upset about not having fireworks?" I asked, slightly concerned. I mean, wouldn't you be concerned if your best friend was almost crying over fireworks?

"I dunno. I just have never experienced fireworks. I wanna try." I nodded. Just then, he pulled out the biggest box of fireworks from behind the sofa. Like, it's the mega pack. It literally has 100 different fireworks.

"Phil, what the hell?! Where did you get this?" I half screamed, completely astonished.

"Um, remember when I went out the other day?" I nodded.

"You said you were going to the store."

"Yeah, well I didn't lie, I did go to the store." He said smiling, as if I was missing some joke.

"What store did you go to for that? The "Big Gigantic Fireworks Store"?!"I screamed.

"No."

"Oh, fine, give me no answers then." I sat down and continued scrolling down Tumblr again, not even realizing that I had stood up before.

"Sorry. I was mesmerized by the awesomeness of these fireworks. Anyway, I went to the American store. I dunno what it's called, but it's pretty cool." He was talking so rapidly that I could hardly understand him. He was obviously excited.

"Phil," I paused, letting this information sink in. "that store, it was by that one crappy fish and chip place, yeah?"

"Yeah, I think so." He replied, trying to recall the scene.

"Phil," I half-screamed. "that places is literally 2 hours from our flat! I figured you were late because you went to PJ's or Chris's house or something."

"I wanted fireworks." He was starting to hug the fireworks. Well, I can't back-off now. We have to use the stupid fireworks.

"Phil, we can't use 100 fireworks on our own."

"Ah ah ah, Dan!" He beamed, pushing his finger to my lips, shushing me. "I have a plan for that. We'll only use 50 tonight, and save them for next year!" He jumped up from the couch and into the kitchen, searching for our cookies.

"But where are we going to let them off? And what if there's a disaster or something? Like one of use dies suddenly?"I asked, picturing the sight of Phil dead because of some stupid fireworks. No, I'm not scared of fireworks, just one day I bought some fireworks and it defected, spun around, and killed the neighbor's cat. Try explaining that one to your old lady neighbor.

"Again," He mumbled, munching through the chocolate cookies. "Plan." That's all he said.

"What's this 'master plan'?" I questioned. But he just gave me this devilish grin and said nothing.


	2. Pulse

"Let's go set off some fireworks!" Phil practically screamed, grabbing his coat and and keys and walked out the door as I followed him. We walked down the flights and flights of stair, instead of taking the lift so Phil could burn off some energy. When we finally reached the bottom, he told me "Get in the car."

I blinked for a second. "Phil, you must be delusional, we don't have a car."

"You're right, Dan. We _didn't_. But," He paused, pushing me towards a new looking car. "I rented one!" He looked so proud of himself, I could see it, even as the sun was setting. I really didn't want to rain on his parade, but I had to.

"Phil, we can't drive."

"That is not correct, Daniel! I learned."

"What?! Since when?" I questioned. Phil doesn't know how to drive. Neither do I.

"Well, I know all I need to know. We're not going to be driving on the road, per say." Oh God. That's it. I'm officially scared.

"Phil," I started out slowly. "this is not a good idea."

"Oh, come on, Dan," He said, practically rolling his eyes. "You're really the dare devil of the two of us, and you're scared?" He smirked. "We'll be fine!"

"No," I half whispered. "I'm not going in that car with you, my life will suffer."

"Eh, you'll be fine!" He reassured, pushing me in the passenger seat and he climbed into the driver's. He started the engine, turned on the radio (Muse.) and put the car in drive, and off we went. But, no, not on the road. The complete opposite way of the road. I started to panic. Anyone would in this situation. I mean my friend who's not acting to sober (but he is, surprisingly) was driving a car with _no license. _

"Phil," I breathed, trying to calm down my heart. "Phil, slow down!" He didn't. "Phil! Slow down, please!" He didn't seem to cooperate with my pleadings. "PHIL, SLOW DOWN OR YOU'LL KILL US BOTH!" I yelled, having a full-on panic attack. He actually sped up. I covered my eyes and mouth, about ready to throw up. Phil was now going 90 miles per hour in the middle of no where. I didn't know where I was, but finally, after 5 long torturous minutes later, we came to a stop and I heard a faint "We're here." from Phil.

My heart had finally slowed, and I peaked open my eyes. We were in the middle of a grass field and the Sun was almost fully set. Phil grabbed the fireworks from the back, and stopped abruptly. "Crap," He said.

"What?" I said panicked.

"I forgot the lighter."

"WHAT?!" I yelled. "I AM NOT GOING BACK THERE, NOT IN THAT CAR WITH YOU!" He chuckled, holding up the blue lighter.

"I was joking."

I stormed into the field, full of anger and panic."Whatever. Just do the stupid fireworks." He perked up, and tore open the package. He read aloud the label, "Super Flyer." whatever that means. He set the lightable thing down in the grass, lit it, and ran over to me and sat down. It floated up in the air and whatever, just havering 2 or 3 feet. The sparks flowed out beautifully. Eventually, blue sparks shot up in the air, mesmerizing us both.

But something happened. It made a noise. Not a bang or pop, but more like a screech. A bad screech. I watched as the firework starting flying towards us, as if in slow motion. I hit Phil is the head, then me and exploded between the two of us.

We were knocked out cold, for a few hours, I'd say. I blinked my eyes open, unsure of what had happened was a dream or not. But, know, I was laying in the grassy field, the grass blades scratching at my sides. I sat up, and glanced at Phil. He was still knocked out, his clothes charred. But something didn't look right. He was full of cuts. I was too, but I wasn't nearly half as bad and he was. "Phil?" I called. "Phil?!" He wouldn't answer. Not with a move of his hand or even a flick of his eye. I checked his pulse, and it was there, pumping slightly, but I knew if I didn't get help soon, my best friend would become an 'is' to a 'was'.


	3. Emergency

_I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing. Pray to a God that I don't believe in._ These words play over and over in my head like a broken record. "No," I tell myself."Phil's going to be okay. I just need to grab my phone, and-" I was stopped by a low moan escaping from Phil. A moan is good right? He's alive.

I run over to the car, in hopes of finding my phone. After what seemed like years of searching, I found it under the passenger seat. I hope there's service. Please, let there be service. 1 bar. "Thank God," I mutter under my breath as I dial 999.

"999, what's your emergency?" The operator answered in a calm tone.

"Yeah, my friend! We both got hit by fireworks and we were knocked out and he still is and-"

"Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down. I'm sending ambulances to your location, your phone has a tracker. You can stay on the line if you would like." I don't know if I want to stay on the line. I walked over to Phil.

"No, no thanks." I hung up, my voice catching on the words. "Phil, Phil? Can you hear me?" A low moan. "I'll take that as a yes. Phil, hang on, the ambulances are coming." I don't know who I was trying to reassure, him or myself. Either way, it didn't seem to work.

Phil's P.O.V.

_I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing. Pray to a God that I don't believe in._ The words circled my head, wanting to escape. I hated that song. I was alive, but I couldn't open my eyes or move or do anything. My heart rate was decreasing rapidly, I could feel it. I tried everything I could to let Dan know that I'm alive; I'm here. I eventually managed a moan, and he heard me. Thank God.

"Phil," I heard him say, his voice scratchy, and I could tell he was trying to hold back tears. "It's going to be alright, the ambulances are coming." I couldn't tell if he was trying to comfort me or him, but either way, it didn't work. I was dying, and we both knew it.

"Dan," I managed to crack out. I peaked open one eye, but then shut it again. I didn't have that much energy. I could feel the darkness surrounding me. So this is what death feels like. It's kind of peaceful. Quiet. "Dan, I'm dying."

"No."

"Yes."

"No you're not Phil! You're not dying! It's all my fault, too! I shouldn't have gotten into the car, I shouldn't have let you do the fireworks, I-" He was crying at this point. He truly believed this was his fault.

"Dan, shut up. This isn't your fault. I'm dying, and you know it."

"No, Phil! Look the ambulances! They're here! Thank God!" I didn't want the stupid paramedics. I wanted to die- life was hard, anyway. Dan didn't need me. It would just be easier for him. The paramedics came over and lifted me up on the stretcher. I closed my eyes are the connected different tubes to different places of my body, and I was still waiting for death to come.

When I opened my eyes, we were on the way to A & E, and Dan was sitting beside me, tears streaking down his face. "See, Phil? You're alive!" I nodded.

"Not for long," I countered, and went to sleep.

Dan's P.O.V.

"See Phil? You're alive!" I exclaimed, and he merely just nodded.

"Not for long," He replied, and closed his eyes. Was he dead? No, no, he wasn't just sleeping. The heart rate monitor was still beeping slightly. We bounced along the grass and we finally reached the hospital. They told me they would put Phil in a room, but I wasn't allowed to see him until tomorrow. "I guess I'm staying here overnight," I told them. "I'm not leaving him alone."

The paramedics took my ebony haired friend to a room upstairs, and they guided me to the waiting room. The waiting room was depressing. The walls were painted with a 'happy' blue, but they just made things worse. They were ugly, and it showed that the painters were trying too hard to try to make this area 'lovely'. In the corner, there was a small childrens area, with toy trucks and legos. There were some dolls, but they were probably snot covered. I walked over to the children's area and sat down. I played with the trucks, making them run into each other, trying to forget about Phil. This did cause some strange glances from the nurses, but I played with them all night, and I built a crappy lion out of legos for Phil. After about 5 hours of waiting and crying, the doctor came out and said, "Daniel Howell? I'm Doctor James, and you can go see him."


	4. You Light Up My World

Dan's P.O.V.

Sure, Doctor James did give me some weird looks for sitting in the play area, but I didn't care. I uttered a 'thank you' to him and rushed off. I knew what room Phil was in, I learned when he was first admitted. I wandered through the halls, searching for room 221 B, when I found it. Before I went in, I peeked through the window just in case he wasn't ready. I creaked the door open and crept inside. He was sleeping. _Do I really want to wake him up?_ I asked myself. No, I shouldn't. He needs rest. I start pacing, then sitting, then pacing again, finally deciding to settle down in a chair across from Phil. I need sleep. Sleep is good.

I don't know how long I slept, but I knew why I woke up. Phil was staring intently at me, obviously trying to get my attention. "Hi, Sleepyhead!" He called to me, perking up a bit. He sat up, forgetting about the wires and cords and he cringed. Phil pulled on his IV.

"Careful," I warned. "How ya doing? Want water?" I just hoped he was okay, because if he wasn't, it would be my fault. _Is it my fault, is it my fault? We've been missing each other, we've been missing each other._ Why are all these stupid songs circling my brain?

"Dan, shut up."

"What?" I asked. I hadn't said anything.

"I know what you're thinking."

"That's creepy, Phil." Distract him. He'll forget. He's on medicine.

"It's not your fault." He replied. I didn't say anything. What was there to say? It was entirely my fault. Seeing Phil in this crappy hospital room, restrained and hurting. I don't even know what happened. He doesn't even have a concussion. The nurses haven't told me anything.

"Yes it is. I shouldn't have got in the car, then you wouldn't have gone."

"I would've forced you."

"It's my fault."

Silence. There was silence for what seemed like eternity. Finally, Phil sang,

"_But it was not your fault but mine. And it was your fault on the line I really fucked it up this time. Didn't I, my dear?" _

I joined in. Mumford & Sons aren't all that bad.

"But seriously," Phil interrupted. "It's not your fault."

"Phil, you are high on the medicine they've been giving you!" I practically yelled, causing some nurses and patients to glance our way. "It's my fault entirely, and don't you tell me any different."

"Any different." He smirked.

"You smart ass."

"But I'm serious. It's my fault, Dan."

"Whatever." We sat in silence for a bit. Finally, a nurse came in and took out Phil's IV.

"You guys are free to go. He's not that hurt, just some scratches and bruises. No concussion. But, no playing with fire anymore, okay Phil?" The nurse asked. She was quite young, probably Phil's age, and American. She looked familiar...where have I seen her before?

"Um, have I seen you before?" I asked awkwardly.

"Yeah, probably, as I've seen you...on YouTube and Starbucks."

"Oh! You're our usual waitress! Never would've guessed someone from Starbucks would've become a nurse."

"Side job," She muttered. "Plus, all of my coworkers were a big bag of dicks."

I giggled. "Okay, well, thank you!"

She left, and I told Phil to get dressed. "Well, turn around then." Poor Phil. My shy Phil. I did as I was told while he got dressed in skinny jeans and a Muse t-shirt.

"Phiiiil," I said dragging out the 'I'. "You're taking forever to get dressed!"

"I can't help it! My hand hurts!" Oh, right. The IV.

Finally, we went to check out.

When we were at home, chilling out, I took the liberty to hide anything fire related. All but one thing. The fireworks. Of course, I forgot about them.

"Hey, Dan?" Phil called to me as he was replying to tweets.

"What do you want?"

"We still have fireworks left." I sighed. That's Phil for you.


End file.
